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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003690">advanced analysis of the 'greendale effect'</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/erce3/pseuds/erce3'>erce3</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>but i love you more than words can say [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Community (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coming Out, M/M, Post-Season/Series 06, They/Them Pronouns for Dean Craig Pelton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:15:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003690</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/erce3/pseuds/erce3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jeff Winger decides to become a professor (mostly for the raise, okay??) the first person he tells is Craig—he walks next door, and somewhere between the first and second glass of scotch Craig keeps in their cabinet just for Jeff, because this is a thing he does now, apparently, he realizes with a start that Craig’s his closest friend.</p><p>*<br/>or, the study group each have to tell jeff that he's gay &amp; in love w dean pelton before he starts to realize it himself (and comes to term with the lasting effect greendale has had on his life)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Craig Pelton/Jeff Winger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>but i love you more than words can say [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>141</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>advanced analysis of the 'greendale effect'</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this fic takes place in part during remedial homecomings, so the troy/abed subplot is like. main plot for the other fic. im not sure how well this reads w/o knowing the contents of the other fic, but there r no real spoilers, so i guess read in whatever order you please?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Ουδέν μονιμότερον του προσωρινού<br/>
Nothing is more permanent than the temporary<br/>
(greek proverb)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Jeff Winger decides to become a professor (mostly for the raise, okay??) the first person he tells is Craig—he walks next door, and somewhere between the first and second glass of scotch Craig keeps in their cabinet just for Jeff, because this is a thing he does now, apparently, he realizes with a start that Craig’s his closest friend.</p><p> </p><p>He blames it on the fact that Craig lives next door and chooses to ignore the Britta-sized problem that currently sleeps in his guest bedroom. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He tries to figure out when it happened.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not that he’s not close with Britta. It’s just that Britta’s got late nights because of bartending, and busy days because of grad school, and an <em> amazingly </em> accurate Jeff Winger Bullshit Meter, where she regularly dresses him down without actually giving him a solution. That’s the Britta guarantee: she’s great at finding your problems, even when you weren’t aware of them or ready to talk about them, but she’s not great at solving them.</p><p> </p><p>Craig says it’s a Greendale thing, finding problems without solving them. Frankie says it’s that Britta has a knack for psychology but not therapy (yet). Jeff knows it’s just Britta.</p><p> </p><p>He figures part of the problem is that she left Greendale, which doesn’t totally make sense, because that’s also around the time she moved in with him. Then again, Craig lives next door and has a penchant for visiting with baked goods Shirley taught them to make, so Jeff sees them about equally when at home. Therefore, he concludes, he sees Craig more often than he sees Britta.</p><p> </p><p>(He refuses to acknowledge the very real possibility that his math is off.)</p><p> </p><p>He mentions it to Abed over Skype during their weekly calls. Abed cocks his head, calculating, and the frame freezes, then jumps as he opens his mouth. “It’s good for you,” says Abed, and Jeff, not ready for any character analysis, because he <em> lives with Britta, dammit, </em> decides not to ask what Abed means.</p><p> </p><p>It’s less that it’s a problem, anyway; Craig’s not so bad, now that Greendale’s stripped Jeff of his standards and icy cold exterior. It’s more that Jeff’s life is now just a constant rotation of the seven or so people—plus or minus the Frankies—that he met in his first year of <em> community college, </em> and if that’s not the saddest thing you could tell an ex-lawyer, here’s what’s worse:</p><p> </p><p>He’s actually happy about it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>To get a better sense of it, he takes a long, hard look at his life.</p><p> </p><p>After Annie and Abed leave, things fall back into a rhythm. Abed calls him every week on Tuesday, and organizes a group Skype on Thursdays, where Jeff and Craig and Frankie trade off on hosting. Once Shirley moves back in town, she also hosts. Britta pretends to help Jeff by offering to make everyone drinks, but Jeff still has to <em> organize </em> everything, which is lame, so eventually it becomes a joint effort where he offers up his apartment and Craig actually does the organizing and hosting. </p><p> </p><p>He’s not sure how this rhythm established itself; he’s barely sure how he stopped texting his old lawyer friends or updating twitter all the time, and he has <em> no idea </em>how he got roped into hosting more and more elaborate dinners Thursday nights. He can’t pinpoint a time where he became this found-family-oriented Jeff Winger instead of the skeevy ex-lawyer who’d do anything to make sure he didn’t have to do any work. At some point, it just happens. </p><p> </p><p>He’s still functionally the same person. There are just shifts.</p><p> </p><p>Like, when Jeff texts constantly, he just texts their group chat, or maybe Abed or Annie, or occasionally Pierce’s old number (not that he’d tell anyone), or even Troy, when Troy has service. His life is just a cycle of contacting these seven or eight idiots he picked up in a community college he never actually left. Or, when he’s thinking about going out drinking, he always ends up drinking with Britta at their favorite bar, when he used to go out alone. </p><p> </p><p>He’s not sure how these things happened; they just did. </p><p> </p><p>Also, at some point Dean Pelton becomes <em> Craig. </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>About a year after Annie and Abed move away, and six months after Shirley moves <em> back, </em> Craig knocks awkwardly on his door, which means something’s wrong. Jeff’s been watching late night reruns of Cougartown, and it says something about him that he just leaves it on—something about the Greendale effect, really—when he opens the door. </p><p> </p><p>“Jeff,” says Craig, which is never a good start, because Craig never calls him Jeff. And then, “Oh, Cougartown?”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” Jeff replies amiably. “You look like you need a drink.”</p><p> </p><p>Craig says they do. Jeff pours them one of the hard lemonades he keeps in the fridge for when they come over. They play with the glass in their hands, nervous. Jeff looks them over; Craig sits perched on one of his barstools in an old Greendale sweatshirt pulled over the clothes they usually wear to work. “I have some news,” they say, sipping the hard lemonade daintily. </p><p> </p><p>Something like panic flashes through him.</p><p> </p><p>“If you’re moving away, too,” he says darkly, “I’m going to go crazy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Jeffery,” Craig says, pleased, and it lightens his mood a bit. “No, I wanted to talk about the group Frankie’s been making me go to.”</p><p> </p><p>“The group?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” they say. “She organized an LGBT support group on campus. I help moderate.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a terrible idea,” replies Jeff, and then stops. “The moderating part, not the support group part.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Craig responds, putting their hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t take you for a homophobe. But it’s been really good, you know, to foster a community on campus. I’m really learning about fixing my mistakes and making Greendale a safer place for everyone. And,” here they duck their head, flutter their eyelashes, and smile, “I met a <em> dean </em>lightful man!” And then, rushed, “Well, technically I was reintroduced to this deanlightful man and started dating him six weeks ago.”</p><p> </p><p>Something else flashes through him, and his mood sours all over again. “Congrats,” says Jeff dryly, suddenly feeling very upset. All of a sudden he wants to be left alone to watch reruns of Cougartown and lesson plan, because that’s also a thing that he does now. Maybe it’s the bad pun that makes him so angry. “That’s why you came over here at nine at night? I have to teach tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>It must be enough of what they’re looking for, because they relax and take another long sip. “You’re always so grumpy,” Craig says, laughing. “You know you’re not convincing.”</p><p> </p><p>Somehow, that upsets Jeff even more.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>So, the problem isn’t necessarily that Craig’s his closest friend. Well, it is, because what does that say about Jeff, but also—if Craig’s his closest friend, why didn’t he know about the <em> boyfriend </em> until six weeks in? So that’s why he panics that night when he decides to become a professor, because Craig is his closest friend, and he didn’t know about their boyfriend, and that’s why he felt so annoyed about the whole thing.</p><p> </p><p>It’s kind of a relief to know he’s not secretly homophobic.</p><p> </p><p>That’s what he tells Britta, anyway, in one of the rare moments where Britta is awake and in the same place he is. To be fair, it’s Saturday evening and he’s spending it at her bar. In his defense, it’s a really good bar.</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” Britta says, “I don’t think that you should be telling me about Craig’s boyfriend until they’re ready to announce it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really,” he replies. “That’s your problem with this situation.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I didn’t take you for a homophobe, Jeff!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not homophobic! I just don’t feel trusted! I don’t know what to do!”</p><p> </p><p>She rolls her eyes. “This is what happens when you have friends,” she informs him, and by the Rule of Britta (in that she can always tell you the problem but never a solution), he decides to believe her.</p><p> </p><p>“I should just ask Abed,” he says.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” she replies, taking his now-empty glass from him and wiping down the counter. “You should ask Shirley. She loves gossip <em> and </em> she gives good advice.”</p><p> </p><p>He stops. “Are you, Britta Perry, telling me, Jeff Winger, that you don’t give good advice?”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up. I can tell you <em> Shirley </em> gives good advice without putting myself down. Two women can be good at the same thing! And I don’t need you, a man, to tell me I don’t give good advice. You gave up that right the moment you decided to grow a wang!” She points her finger accusatorily at his chest, and he happily swats it away. This is Britta for <em> I love you, asshole, and everything’s going to be okay. </em></p><p> </p><p>“I should visit you at work more often,” he tells her, and she rolls her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Typical man, not paying attention to what a woman says.”</p><p> </p><p>“I paid attention, I just decided not to respond.”</p><p> </p><p>“What<em> ever, </em> Simon Heffer. Maybe you’re just in love with them.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeff blinks for a long time at that. “What?!” he cries, after a while. “<em> This </em> is what you’re getting out of grad school?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just sayin’,” she replies, smirking, “that you have some serious repressed gayness. I mean, you like to look at yourself more than the women you bring home to have sex with! And I've seen some of those women. I’m not saying that all women aren’t a gift to look at, but I know for a fact that the women you bring home are conventionally attractive.” She pauses. “Also, it would explain our lackluster sex.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever,” scoffs Jeff. “That doesn’t have anything to do with repressed gayness. We’ve already covered I have a huge ego.” He doesn’t add, <em> And you </em> chose <em> to have sex with me, </em> but he’s tempted to.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you didn’t have an ego! After all, your FaceBook profile photo is a landscape,” she reminds him smugly. </p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” he says, “this is coming from the woman Abed hired a hairdresser for when he went crazy with power over fried chicken. All you wanted was a <em> hairdresser </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“So sue me for falling victim to patriarchal expectations of women!”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re saying that like it’s <em> my </em> fault.”</p><p> </p><p>She waves in the general direction of his dick. “It is, asshole,” she says, and goes to pour a drink for the person who’s been trying to catch her attention for the past five minutes. He watches her go, sighing into his own now-empty cup. As per usual, Britta doesn’t do much to help clear things up, but he feels weirdly better. He figures if anyone were to know if he were homophobic, it’d be Britta.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>At school, the <em> boyfriend </em> starts picking Craig up for lunch. Except it turns out the boyfriend is <em> Stephen Spreck, </em> which is infinitely worse. Jeff motions to the two of them chatting amiably in Craig’s office, frowning. “Can’t you see he’s seducing them for evil?” he hisses to Frankie, who’s watching them nonchalantly.</p><p> </p><p>“I think this rivalry thing could have been a courting thing,” she replies, shrugging.</p><p> </p><p>“He almost annexed Greendale in a game of paintball,” says Jeff. “He’s insane.”</p><p> </p><p>“And the Dean isn’t?”</p><p> </p><p>He massages his temples. Looking back on it, he can’t remember the last inappropriate comment Craig has said to him. “We take care of each other,” he tells her as seriously as he can, “and we watch out for City College trying to overthrow us.” He crosses his arms, and adds, under his breath, “And, because this school broke me, I don’t even want to become a lawyer again.”</p><p> </p><p>She pats him gently. “It’s not easy having a crush on your coworker,” she says, “but it’s not a good thing to follow through with. Plus, they’re happy.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?!” he cries. “A crush? Frankie, has this place gotten to you too?”</p><p> </p><p>“This place got to me the moment I arrived,” she informs him. “Also, I’ve been talking to Britta.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why anyone would do that willingly, I will never know.”</p><p> </p><p>“You live with her.”</p><p> </p><p>He gestures to himself. “I’m obviously not sound of mind.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He ends up going to Shirley. Or, rather, they gossip while he helps her make dinner for her kids. “I appreciate you helping me, Jeff-er-y,” she sings as he chops carrots. He grunts in response, back to her as he listens to the radio she keeps on while they cook. “You know, I know you said you don’t go to church…”</p><p> </p><p>“Shirley,” he says, exasperated. “I’m already helping you cook.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry for asking my old friend for help!” she snaps, and he turns to see her glaring at him. “Or for asking my old friend to come with me to a new church where I don’t know anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“A new…?”</p><p> </p><p>“One that recognizes my split with Andre,” she explains, and he sighs.</p><p> </p><p>“Crap. I’m sorry, Shirley.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” she tells him. “I found a very lovely community in Atlanta,” she adds. “They taught me a healthier way of practicing Christianity, and so I am searching for that grace here, in Colorado, which my old church does not practice.” She says it all in her sing-song, which really means she’s worried.</p><p> </p><p>“Why can’t Britta go with you?” he says, before he thinks better of it.</p><p> </p><p>She just looks at him for a long time, her resolve eventually crumbling into peals of laughter, then turns back to the stove, where she’s making tomato sauce.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” he tells her. “I’m glad you’re joining a new church.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that’s nice,” she responds, happily. “Plus, maybe you can speak to God about your relationship with Britta—”</p><p> </p><p>“There is no relationship with Britta!” he says. “Just because we’re living together—”</p><p> </p><p>“A-<em> ha </em> !” she cries, interrupting him. “So you <em> are </em> interested in Craig.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“What?!”</p><p> </p><p>She looks at him for a long time. “Britta, Frankie, and I have been doing girls’ nights,” she explains. “Sometimes we call Annie, too. Anyways, they’ve been telling me you and Britta are completely platonic, which means that something—” here she gestures violently, to imply something Jeff can’t puzzle out “—is going on between you and someone else.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe Britta and I just aren’t compatible,” Jeff says desperately.</p><p> </p><p>“You ‘weren’t compatible’ on the study room table several times,” she responds.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I deserved that, but—”</p><p> </p><p>She pats his shoulder. “I won’t judge you, you know. Lately, I’ve been expanding my dating pool myself.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
His mouth opens and hangs there. He tries to imagine Shirley kissing a woman and comes up blank. “Are you saying you’re—”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to look so surprised,” she says, voice low and angry for a moment, and then she smooths her face into a tight smile again. “I just thought it might help you accept your own feelings, Jeffrey. I myself have learned a lot from accepting Christian spaces, you know,” she adds.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m only going once,” he tells her seriously. “And only to support you. Also, this conversation isn’t over—”</p><p> </p><p>“So you do like the Dean?” she says sweetly. “Oh, that’s nice!”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I don’t! I’m straight! I mean, I support you, but—”</p><p> </p><p>She pats his back. “It’s time we both learned to accept ourselves,” she says, and he frowns and begins to chop the carrots with more vigor.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He’s not in love with Craig, okay? He just hates their boyfriend—like <em> any </em> self-respecting Greendale student might, considering all the crap City College pulled—and Craig is the only one who doesn’t make him feel like he needs to crawl out of his skin when he’s honest about sticking around Greendale for so long.</p><p> </p><p>“I like teaching,” he tells them, once, while they eat in his office. Craig hasn’t asked why he stuck around, but he can see the question on their face each time they eat lunch together, which is less and less because of the <em> boyfriend </em> situation. Regardless, he’s stopped eating in the teacher’s lounge, for the most part.</p><p> </p><p>Craig nods, like they know what he really means. Something about how tame the gesture is bothers him; the way their eyes don’t conspicuously flick down to his muscle when he flexes it ‘on accident’ or the way their hand doesn’t find his shoulder. He knows, logically, it’s because Craig has a boyfriend, but sometimes he feels like he’s aging too much.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t matter: when he starts doubling his work out time, Craig is the one who knocks on his door and gives him the one-eye-brow raised look of disapproval. “Jeffery,” they say, sweeping in, because at some point Britta gave them a key, or maybe Jeff did, he doesn’t remember anymore.</p><p> </p><p>(That’s a lie: he gave Craig a key. He remembers it perfectly. He likes to pretend he doesn’t, though.)</p><p> </p><p>“Craig,” he says, pausing his crunches.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to hurt yourself,” they say, but their eyes still aren’t straying to his lips or his out-on-display abs, or his arms. “You’re getting older, you know.”</p><p><br/>
“Don’t say that!” he hisses, and does another crunch to prove he’s not <em> that </em> old.</p><p> </p><p>Craig’s eyebrow is still raised. “You’re entering silver fox territory,” they say, instead of apologizing. “You should embrace it.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” says Jeff, before he realizes that’s technically flirting, and <em> Craig has a boyfriend, </em> even if their boyfriend is evil. But it does something complicated to Craig’s face, and their eyes track the movement of his muscles as he does a third crunch, just for a second.</p><p> </p><p>“Jefferey,” they say, exasperated, rolling their eyes. “It’s just some advice from a friend.”</p><p> </p><p>He nods. <em> Friends. </em> Because that’s what they are. And if he doesn’t put his shirt back on when he offers them some hard lemonade, if he flexes a little bit more getting it out of the fridge? That’s his famous narcissism, nothing more. He’s not in love with Craig. He’s straight. He loves women, and only women, no matter what his friends think.</p><p> </p><p>(He also doesn’t celebrate when Craig tells him a couple weeks later it didn’t work out with Stephen.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He’s given a break from everyone mentioning it when Troy comes back. Craig yanks him down the halls—apparently they’ve still got that second sense—muttering about not having time for a costume. Jeff frowns. “You don’t need a costume,” he tells them. “You look good like this.”</p><p> </p><p>He says it just to make them feel better, which is why it’s weird he feels the tips of his ears go red.</p><p> </p><p>Fortunately, Craig doesn’t seem to notice. “You’re always making fun of my costumes,” they sigh. “I work really hard on them, you know!”</p><p> </p><p>Jeff rolls his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, “that’s my problem with them.”</p><p> </p><p>And then they enter the study room, where Troy is standing there, clutching a duffle bag. He looks older: his hair is a little shorter than he used to wear it, his clothes aren’t what he’d wear at Greendale, he has bags under his eyes—behind Craig, Jeff stares at him, opening his mouth to say hi—</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Jeffery,” Craig responds sarcastically, turning to look at Jeff with a disapproving glare. Jeff immediately forgets what he was going to say. “I’m sure Troy feels so welcomed with your running commentary.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeff rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a zinger, Craig. I will totally stop now.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a professor now, you know,” responds Craig, wheeling around to face Jeff entirely. “It’s not as suave when you insult our school.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeff opens his mouth to retort, but he’s interrupted by Troy’s exclamation of “You’re a <em> professor </em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>He jumps; they both turn to fix blank stares at Troy, having nearly forgotten he was there. Troy’s face is still as open and readable as it used to be, and right now it’s frowning at Jeff, confused and lost and annoyed. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Troy,” says Jeff on instinct, sarcastic as always, and then pauses, because it’s actually <em> true. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Troy,” says Craig, in a much softer way. “Jeffery decided to take the leap and become a professor over a teacher. And, you know,” they add in a low voice with a hand to their mouth, like they’re telling a secret, “he defends the school in lawsuits from time to time.”</p><p> </p><p>“It pays better,” grumbles Jeff as convincingly as he can.</p><p> </p><p>Troy stands there a little awkwardly, looking between them like he’s trying to puzzle something out. That’s an old Troy expression, too, which Jeff appreciates seeing, one he’d wear when the conversation went over his head. “Huh,” he says intelligently. And then, “if Jeff still works here, where’s Abed?” Jeff winces at that. “I think he got a new number. He’s not answering his phone.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s another long silence.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” continues Craig, making some distressed hand motions, “this is awkward. But we, uh. We thought you were dead.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jeff does a lot of moderating while Craig asks some questions that <em> clearly </em> annoy Troy. Eventually, Jeff offers Troy his couch, an offer which Troy takes up with some hesitance. “We’ll just hang out,” says Jeff, slinging a punch onto Troy’s arm, then feels awkward about it. “Catch up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” says Troy, still looking uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>He’s not a kid anymore, that’s for sure. Jeff tries a winning smile, the kind he’d use to disarm when he was a lawyer. “I’ll buy you a drink?” he adds as Craig opens their mouth to ask about the pirates again. “Britta’s a bartender part-time.”</p><p> </p><p>At the mention of Britta, Troy lights up again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It helps soothe a lot of the stress headaches he’s been getting about being straight lately to navigate Troy’s comfort. Britta’s the first obstacle: he can tell she’s about to dress Troy down on the Abed problem, and maybe also on Jeff’s problem with Craig, and that’s a headache he can’t afford.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t really help, though, because he gets into an argument later with Craig about the pricing of costumes, sort-of backed up by Frankie, and he doesn’t realize until halfway through that Britta’s pulled Troy aside.</p><p> </p><p>So much for navigating for Troy. He realizes they’re talking by the bar, swears, pats Craig awkwardly, and walks over, cursing himself for <em> patting Craig, </em> like that’s the way to end a conversation. Frankie and Craig’s eyes follow him, both making the expression equivalent of a question mark.</p><p> </p><p>Jeff ignores them and approaches Troy and Britta.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sad,” Troy’s saying, sounding exhausted.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not?” Troy opens his mouth to respond, but Britta holds up her hands, making her ‘realization’ face. “Oh, of course. You’re just processing your trauma. Being kidnapped by pirates must have been terrifying.” She places her hand on his shoulder, and Jeff winces internally, feeling sorry for Troy. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I completely understand.” She looks at him seriously, and Troy looks like he’s going to start sweating. “But we can get through this together.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Jeff sighs. “It’s his first night back. Give him a break, Britta,” he says, startling the two of them. “You’re not a therapist yet.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Troy untangles himself from her hand and stands up. “You’re getting better, though,” he says awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>“He needs time to heal,” replies Britta, ignoring Troy and glaring at Jeff.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, give him some time, then,” retorts Jeff.</p><p> </p><p>“Well <em> you </em> give <em> him </em> some time.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not even a good response! It barely makes sense,” cries Jeff.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re boning Dean Pelton?!” says Troy out of the blue, aghast. He turns to Jeff and then sheepishly adds, “not like I have a problem with it. It’s just. Dean Pelton? Really?” </p><p> </p><p>“What?” says Jeff, feeling his cheeks heat up. His brain supplies an image. And then another. And then another. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> What </em>?” says Britta. “Jeff, you didn’t tell me—”</p><p> </p><p>He tells his brain to shut up, and sighs. “That’s because I’m not ‘boning’ Dean Pelton. Troy, what on earth would make you think that?” Jeff looks over at Troy and tries to put on an expression of total surprise, when really he feels exhausted and annoyed and—and <em> confused </em> that everyone in the study group thinks he has a thing for Craig. Except maybe Abed.</p><p> </p><p>Troy fixes him with a patient look, like the one he was giving Britta. “You bicker with them the way you used to with Britta.”</p><p> </p><p>“No I <em> don’t </em> ,” says Jeff, right as Britta goes, “oh my <em> God, </em> you’re right,” and then looks right at Dean Pelton, like she’s looking for more evidence to go to her gay Jeff Winger theory. Jeff wants to be swallowed into the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t do that,” says Jeff instead, swatting in front of Britta’s vision in an attempt to distract her. “We’re <em> not </em> hooking up. It’s just weird because we’re friends now, that’s all. You just missed the introduction of their boyfriend about half a year ago.” He rounds on Britta, incredibly annoyed at her enabling Troy’s misjudgement. “I understand <em> him </em> not knowing, but you? How did you forget?”</p><p> </p><p>Britta frowns. “I don’t remember meeting their boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeff opens his mouth for another retort, but Troy interrupts him. “I don’t care, actually,” he says, looking a little lost and sad again. “I just. Where’s Abed?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeff deflates. He’s going to have to tell him, isn’t he?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Craig gets a little drunk, like they do, because they’re a lightweight, so Jeff drives their car back for them, and lets Troy drive his car, mostly because he feels really bad about the whole Abed situation. Especially because Abed’s ignoring Troy. “We still live in the same place,” says Jeff, and gives Troy the address.</p><p> </p><p>In the car, Craig turns to look at Jeff and frowns. They’re really wasted, Jeff realizes, as they inspect him. “I’m glad you stuck around,” they say, after a long time. “I don’t feel safe without you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m half the reason you get into stuff in the first place,” Jeff jokes, but when he glances over, he realizes they’re being completely serious, and sobers somewhat.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t go into rooms alone with Chang anymore,” Craig tells him, light like they’re discussing the weather, all the consonants slurred together. “Not since Abed left.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeff swallows. “It’s been a couple years,” he says quietly.</p><p> </p><p>Craig shrugs, a little mopey now.</p><p> </p><p>“I would notice, if it happened again,” adds Jeff.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” says Craig, drunkenly trailing a finger down Jeff’s cheek. He swats at it, trying to focus on the road. “That’s why I like being your neighbor. It’s why I’m glad you stuck around.” Jeff smiles at the red light in front of him before he can stop himself, then turns to Craig, drumming his fingers against the wheel of his car.</p><p> </p><p>There’s something weirdly intimate about it: the red light cast on Craig’s face, the way they look a little dazed, and their mouth is open so that Jeff can see the pink of their tongue, just barely, in the light cast on it. He’s still smiling, he realizes belatedly, and the corner of Craig’s mouth twitches up at him.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think I’m straight,” he says. “And I’m only telling you this because you’re drunk.”</p><p> </p><p>Craig coos. “You can be whatever you want,” they say, sounding a lot like what Jeff considers the quintessential drunk girl in the bathroom. “I’m proud of you."</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, whatever,” he says, and moves his hand to pat Craig’s knee. “I’m proud of you, too.”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t say what he’s proud of, but Craig doesn’t ask, and by the way Jeff has to put them to bed, the conversation’s probably forgotten in the morning.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When he gets back into the apartment and as he hands Troy some blankets, Troy fixes him with a long look. “I’m gay, you know,” says Troy, and holds up his hand before Jeff can say anything else. “I just thought it might help you. It’s cool if you’re into them.” He gives Jeff a nod, and begins taking off his shoes.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, thanks,” manages Jeff, but he feels weirdly winded. Something in his chest coils and uncoils.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t say anything back, but Troy seems to get the implications of Jeff not denying anything, for once, and Troy settles onto the couch without a complaint.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They go to pick up Abed and Annie when they visit that summer. It’s been a few months since Troy arrived, and Jeff can tell he’s antsy to see the two of them. It’s awkward, on the drive up, and only slightly less awkward driving back, if only because Abed’s still mad at Troy. It’s nice to see everyone, though, and not to think about the complex relationship Jeff is forming with his sexuality.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t last: Annie corners him about it. He’s been avoiding the conversation with her, mostly because he <em> can </em> when it’s over text and call and email. “You and the De—Craig,” she says authoritatively, pointing a finger at his chest, that he half-heartedly tries to slap away. “Spill. Everyone wants to know!”</p><p> </p><p>“Not everyone,” he says. “Abed hasn’t asked me about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you admit there’s something there,” she says.</p><p> </p><p>“No! You all just <em> think </em> there’s something there.” He sighs, trying to think of a redirect, and lands on a perfect one. “Besides, shouldn’t everyone be invested in the fact Abed’s mad at Troy for leaving and stuff? I thought we all cared about their friendship! Their friendship is at stake here, Annie! Shame on you!”</p><p> </p><p>“They’re working it out,” replies Annie, and sniffs, crossing her arms and looking away from him dismissively. “And I <em> am </em> interested. I’m allowed to ask about multiple things at once, Jeff.”</p><p> </p><p>He frowns at her. “I don’t know,” he says eventually. “I barely know if I like guys. Or...Craig-shaped people.”</p><p> </p><p>She brightens. “Aw, Jeff,” she says excitedly, “are you coming out to me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?” he says, and swears. “No. Maybe?”</p><p> </p><p>She nods, pats his arm. “You should talk to Britta. She seems like she’s knowledgeable about this kind of stuff. Or maybe Abed. Abed’s into men, so.”</p><p> </p><p>“Britta said I was into men,” he tells her. “And I don’t think I can handle Abed explaining my sexuality to me through sitcom tropes and characters from action movies.” He crosses his arms. “And <em> don’t </em> tell Britta she was right. I don’t want her to be able to hold that over my head just yet.”</p><p> </p><p>She gives him the disappointed Annie look.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to tell her myself,” he adds, and the look vanishes.</p><p> </p><p>She softens at that, patting his shoulder the way he used to pat her head. “I’m proud of you,” she says.</p><p> </p><p>“I wish people would stop telling me that,” he replies.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><em> jeff winger </em> to <em> greendale seven groupchat!!! </em> at 10:34 pm: hey guys i have an announcement</p><p><em> Annie Edison: </em> (three pale skin-colored thumbs up emojis)</p><p><em> abed: </em>Do you want us to guess?</p><p><em> jeff winger: </em> no give me a moment</p><p><em> buttsoup barnes: </em> (dark skin-colored thumbs up)</p><p><em> Shirley Bennett: </em> :)</p><p><em> jeff winger: </em> stop typing it’s distracting</p><p>...[several people are typing]</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><em> jeff winger </em> to <em> greendale seven groupchat!!! </em> at 11:45pm: <em> i’m bi. </em></p><p><em> britta: </em>duh doy!!!!!!!</p><p><em> Annie Edison: </em> Britta!!!!</p><p><em> Annie Edison: </em> congrats, Jeff. we’re really proud of you!</p><p><em> abed: </em> [attached gif that Jeff’s phone refuses to load and Jeff, out of pride, refuses to ask Abed to resend, because that would mean acknowledging Jeff’s phone is old and he can’t afford a new one]</p><p><em> buttsoup barnes: </em> cool, man. (rainbow flag emoji)</p><p><em> Shirley: </em> (pink sparkling heart, purple heart, blue heart)</p><p><em> britta: </em> congrats or whatever. that makes us officially no longer str8</p><p><em> jeff winger </em> reacted to this message with a <em> ? </em></p><p><em> britta: </em> Ur tje last of us 2 come out</p><p><em> Annie Edison: </em> yes, but we should still be supportive!</p><p><em> abed: </em>[attached gif that Jeff’s phone still won’t load, and Jeff’s not going to ask]</p><p><em> Shirley: </em> I agree. (heart emoji) We’re proud of you, Jeff.</p><p><em> buttsoup barnes: </em> yeah, coming out is hard.</p><p><em> jeff winger: </em> thanks, guys</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Things go on as normal. Frankie forwards him the LGBT Faculty Organization meeting times, which Jeff knows she’s working really hard to get off the ground, because right now it’s her, the pottery teacher, Chang, and Craig. She also sends him an RSVP, which—really? He still clicks <em> maybe, </em> though.</p><p> </p><p>Troy basically moves out of Jeff’s apartment (and Britta’s, she scolds him, since she pays half the rent, and it’s not fair to assume <em> he </em> owns it, sexist pig!) and into Abed and Annie’s AirBnB, which allows him to actually use his couch for the first time in weeks, but he’s not that mad about it.</p><p> </p><p>Craig gives him a little bi flag to put on his desk at school.</p><p> </p><p>(He pretends like he’s above being flattered by this, but something in his heart does warm every time he looks at it, even if he won’t admit it to anyone.)</p><p> </p><p>They play Dungeons and Dragons, and he pointedly does <em> not </em> flirt with Craig’s character, but he kind of ends up doing it anyway, sort of on accident. Then he flirts with everyone else to make up for it, and everyone calls him sleazy and laughs, so he figures he gets away with it.</p><p> </p><p>With everyone back, there’s classic shenanigans, which Jeff dutifully rolls his eyes to and objects at all the right moments, but the truth that he’d pretty much only admit to Britta (or, more truthfully, would not deny when Britta accuses him of the truth) is that he’s missed it, the Dungeons and Dragons and taking care of Annie and the stupid pillow fight that Abed turns into a genre thing again.</p><p> </p><p>(Jeff turns to Shirley during the pillow fight and raises a singular eyebrow. He figures she knows what that means.</p><p> </p><p>She laughs, and hits his shoulder. “I’ve missed this too, Jeff-er-ey,” she sings.)</p><p> </p><p>After the pillow fight, they get drinks, which mostly means Troy and Abed watch as they all drink. Britta unfortunately can make a killer cocktail—or five—and so, naturally, Craig gets a little wasted again. They haven’t had time to change out of their work clothes, which makes them out of place in the bar, but by drink two they don’t seem self conscious about it. </p><p> </p><p>“Jeffery,” they croon, face flush. “Let’s do karaoke.” </p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” says Jeff, taking their third cocktail. “How many of these have you had?”</p><p> </p><p>Britta, behind the bar, gasps. “Kiss From a Rose?” she calls, and then points to other members of their group. “Kiss From a Rose? Kiss From a Rose?”</p><p> </p><p>Annie squeals delightedly, clapping her hands; Abed and Troy both turn to each other and do their handshake, nodding. “It’d be a nice sequel,” says Abed, directing a finger gun in Britta’s direction. Craig beams at Britta. Only Frankie looks questioningly at him, to which Jeff massages his temples. “There’s not even a place to do karaoke,” he protests, but Abed has already disappeared into the back to mess with the speakers.</p><p> </p><p>“Jeff and Craig did this once,” explains Annie, sliding up to Frankie and pulling out her phone. “Abed would say it’s very reunion-episode of us to do another one.”</p><p> </p><p>“You have the video saved on your phone?!” cries Jeff.</p><p> </p><p>Craig attaches themself to his arm and swats at his cheek happily. “Drink more, Jeffrey,” they say, “and you’ll be more okay with this.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not okay with this,” says Jeff, and Britta hands him a shot. He squints at her. “You’re enabling them,” he says, looking at the glass in his hand. “This is a terrible idea.”</p><p> </p><p>She gives him a thumbs up and takes a shot herself.</p><p> </p><p>At that moment, the music comes on. Jeff squeezes his eyes shut.</p><p> </p><p>Craig leaps up, swaying a little bit. “Come on, Jeffery,” they say, and Jeff thinks faintly about how it’s proven that saying someone’s name makes them like you more. He wonders if that’s the real reason they’ve gotten so close, if Craig’s been secretly manipulating him the entire time. The idea’s so absurd he almost starts to laugh. “I know you know the words,” they add, and begin to move their arms awkwardly to the music, stumbling slightly.</p><p> </p><p>Jeff curses, knocks back the shot, and steadies Craig. Their motor skills are always the first to go when they drink. He closes his eyes again and sighs. </p><p> </p><p><em> “There used to be a graying tower alone on the sea…” </em> he begins to sing, and when he opens his eyes, Craig is beaming at him. <em> “You became the light on the dark side of me…” </em> he continues, watching Craig’s smile grow impossibly larger, and their hands find his hips with sudden steadiness as they begin to sway with more purpose.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Love remained a drug that’s the high and not the pill,” </em> they sing together, laughing slightly. The alcohol must be hitting him, because Jeff can feel himself grinning and can’t stop.</p><p> </p><p>Britta has managed to get out from behind the bar, and she places her hand on his shoulder to join in: <em> “But did you know when it snows, my eyes become large…” </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “AND THE LIGHT THAT YOU SHINE CAN BE SEEN,” </em>Jeff belts as Craig, Britta, Annie, Shirley, and Troy all sing along with him.</p><p> </p><p>He laughs as the chorus starts, beginning to sing with an imaginary microphone in his hand. Annie pushes Frankie up to her feet, and Britta guides her into an awkward dance between the two of them. Troy, Annie, Shirley, and Abed all begin to dance in place together, shouting the lyrics at one another. But Craig only looks at him, their eyes twinkling and face flush with alcohol and laughter.</p><p> </p><p>Jeff finds himself looking back, lost in it; their hands on his hips, his hands on their shoulders, screaming lyrics as the whole group laughs.</p><p> </p><p>Later that night, he’ll think about that moment, and the way he felt when Craig looked at him like that. He thinks about the moment of dancing with everyone, singing a stupid song, laughing. He’s loath to admit how <em> happy </em> he is with these idiots, with one idiot in particular, but he is. He’s happy. He can admit that in the privacy of his own room, at least.</p><p> </p><p>He gets a text from Abed that reads, <em> I’m glad you figured out the way you feel about Dean Pelton, </em> and he responds, <em> You should try to call them Craig. </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The truth is, Craig became his closest friend when he started inviting them to Winger Family Dinners, and they’d show up to be his emotional support with a bottle of wine and without any complaints. They became his closest friend when they encouraged him to stay at Greendale, where he’s happy, instead of taking that job he was offered as a corporate lawyer. They became his closest friend when they saw how lonely he got without Annie and Abed and, for a short time, Shirley, back when Britta was too busy to really hang out, and they came next door to keep him company. </p><p> </p><p>They became his best friend when they started seeing him, all his problems and faults and insecurities, and chose to stay and love him anyway.</p><p> </p><p>The truth is, by Rule Of Britta, Jeff’s in love with them.</p><p> </p><p>And he’s okay with that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In the morning, he gets up early and makes some black coffee and a hangover cure Britta swears by. He leaves the pot and some of the cure on the counter for when she wakes up, and takes a serving with him when he knocks on Craig’s door.</p><p> </p><p>It takes them some time to answer; Jeff’s pretty sure they’ll be hungover, anyway, so he doesn’t mind waiting. When they do open the door, they’re disheveled and bleary eyed, but not as dead inside as one would expect, and Jeff holds up the coffee in a to-go cup and Britta’s gross cure in lieu of a greeting. “Your stomach okay enough to have this?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>Craig blinks up at him. “Thank you, Jeffery,” they say, without answering his question.</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs. They move aside, letting him in, and he places it on their kitchen counter. His stomach is in knots. “You don’t have to do this,” they say, pleased, and he shrugs again.</p><p> </p><p>“I wanted to ask you out on a date,” he replies, sounding calmer than he really feels. He feels the tips of his ears heat up again. “But I didn’t want you to be hungover for it.”</p><p> </p><p>Their eyebrow raises. “Is this a joke?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeff frowns. “No?” He begins to pour the coffee into a mug, passing it to them. Their fingers brush, which he notes because, for some reason, Craig reduces them to a thirteen year old with a crush. He looks down at them, studying their guarded expression with his stomach in knots. “Why would I joke about that? I’ve never led you on before.”</p><p> </p><p>Craig’s single eyebrow gets impossibly higher. “You’re serious?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeff sighs. “It took literally every single member of our group, except Chang, to get me to realize this. Please don’t let me waste any more time.”</p><p> </p><p>The corner of their mouth begins to quirk into a smile. “You’re really serious,” they say in wonder.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that a yes?” asks Jeff, suddenly considering the very real possibility of a <em> no. </em></p><p> </p><p>“How do you feel about dalmatian costumes?” they ask in response, which makes his heart swell again, because that’s a yes. (He immediately wonders what went wrong, that a question about fucking <em> dalmatian costumes </em> made him so happy he wants to faint. He decides he didn’t do anything wrong at all.)</p><p> </p><p>They step close towards him, placing the coffee mug on the counter and their hands on his chest tentatively, like they’re not sure they’re allowed to do this. Jeff feels his own hands find their waist, as if they have a mind of their own. “Don’t push your luck,” he says, smiling softly down at them.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll work up to it,” they respond, patting his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“Hm,” he hums. “We’ll see. How does Señor Kevin’s for lunch sound?”</p><p> </p><p>They beam. “It sounds wonderful, Jeffery,” they say, and his stomach does this swoop that it’s never done with anyone else before, and he considers the thought of a <em> boyfriend, </em> and realizes he doesn’t balk at it. They give him a kiss on the cheek and return to their coffee, smiling to themself happily.</p><p> </p><p>He watches them for a moment, feeling impossibly tender towards them. It’s disgusting. He’s so happy he could throw up. “Frankie’s going to have a fit,” he says, mostly to himself.</p><p> </p><p>“I think she won the betting pool,” replies Craig, shrugging, “so I don’t think she’ll be too mad.”</p><p> </p><p>He knows he should be annoyed about the admittance of the betting pool, but he isn’t. He can’t stop smiling. “Good,” he says, and kisses the top of Craig’s head, just to hear them make a noise of surprise and excitement. It’s a pretty awesome noise. Even Jeff Winger’s cold, ex-lawyer heart can admit that.</p><p> </p><p>He’ll probably not admit that it melts his cold, ex-lawyer heart, though. Not for a while, anyway. “Do you think we could guilt her into giving us the money?”<br/>
<br/>
“Jeff!” admonishes Craig, but they’re mostly laughing at him.</p><p> </p><p>He laughs, too.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(Abed actually beats Frankie by one day. He gives the money to Jeff to pay for his date with Craig.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Years later, Jeff thumbs a box in his suit jacket pocket as Craig twirls around the park in a pleated skirt. They’re wearing the ankle boots with heels that Britta got them for their birthday. Ahead, Jeff can see Abed and Troy setting up the lights in the gazebo. He’s been running through his speech all day in his head.</p><p> </p><p>He knows Craig will say yes. The old Jeff Winger would freak out with that knowledge. Somehow, this Jeff Winger—the Greendale Jeff Winger—is alight with excitement over it.</p><p> </p><p>“Look,” he says, pointing towards the gazebo. It’s late spring, and all the jacaranda trees around the area have dusted the ground with purple. “I think I see them.”</p><p> </p><p>Craig smiles back at him, holding out their hand. He strides forward to take it. “I love you,” he whispers, feeling particularly cheesy and gross and disgusting.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you, too,” says Craig, eye twinkling like they know what he’s about to do. They probably do know; they know him better than he knows himself. They’re still going to act surprised, though, and maybe even cry when he delivers the speech, and Britta will say something annoying, like, “maybe weddings aren’t bullshit after all,” or something, and Annie and Shirley will coo. Troy will cry as well, and Abed will rub circles into his back while he nods in approval at Jeff.</p><p> </p><p>The future has become pretty predictable.</p><p> </p><p>Jeff Winger’s not mad about it at all.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>im sorry this is mostly unedited, it's been sitting in my drafts for a couple weeks and im Tired,, that being said if u liked it please consider writing a comment or yelling at me on tumblr/twit @figbian thanks &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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